Grandmaster Ultra: Set-Up and Day One

Interested. I've never volunteered at a marathon before. Actually, my experience with races extends to a couple of 5k's I've run throughout the last few years and the Pikes Peak Marathon every August where I cheer Torrey and her dad on from the comfort of a pile of boulders on the mountain top. When Torrey's aunt and uncle mentioned they were directing an Ultra, back when I saw them in Manitou Springs over the summer, I was excited to volunteer my help. I had no idea what exactly my help would involve, but I was happy and willing to do anything they needed. Also, ya know, hanging out in the desert for a few days during February was kind of a draw.

Now, for those of you who don't know an Ultra is exactly what it sounds like: a super extra race, either requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a normal distance (a marathon or half marathon, for example) or requiring extensive effort on the part of a runner but at a decidedly not normal distance - say, 50-100 miles. Or more. After hiking Pikes Peak's Barr Trail last summer I have mad respect for those who run that race under a time limit, and can totally see how it would be considered an Ultra. For this particular race, the Grandmasters Ultra, there were a number of different distances a runner could enter, the longest of which is a 100 mile course to be completed within 48 hours. Perhaps the most interesting part of this race was the qualifications to be met by entrants: they must be 50 years or older to participate. So to recap, I volunteered to help a 100 mile, 48 hour race ran by a bunch of adults over the age of 50. And you know what? I loved every minute of it.

Oh, and I was allowed to bring my cat. Hoodoo and I arrived in Mesquite, NV late in the evening after a 20 hour drive plus a broken-down car (more on that in a different post). I met Torrey and her friend, Carrie, at their hotel and after getting settled and introducing myself and the cat to Carrie, promptly passed out. The next day was spent helping Torrey's aunt, uncle, and dad get whatever they needed done before the start of the race the following day. It was a long day and a late night of sorting supplies, running the packet pick-up table with Torrey and Carrie, and otherwise getting ready for the inaugural race, and it was far too early the next morning when our alarm went off, prompting us to get to the starting line then out to the Aid Station we would be manning for the next 48 hours. As long as there was a runner on the course, we would be there to help them.

Our aid station, number 4, was situated at the corner of two desert dirt roads doubling as part of the ultra's course, four miles from the finish line. We drove out in a rented RV with our supplies and runners' drop bags, eager to set up and welcome the first runners a few hours after their start at 8am. We weren't alone out there; in addition to the RV where Torrey, Carrie, Hoodoo, and I were to offer food, water, and heat to runners who wanted them we were joined by a ham radio operator named Johnny Rauzi, call sign k7zzq with the Virgin Valley Amature Radio Club - Mesquite. Johnny was to be our communication with the start/finish line (base) and the other three aid stations along the course. He helped us set up the RV, taught us how to work the thing (I've had limited experience with "luxury" camping, as I usually prefer a tent, but did used to travel with my family in our camper for summer vacations), and generally helped us keep track of the runners on course.

That first day flew by. I made sure to take some time to wander along the dusty road and meander through the scrub brush and Joshua Tree desert, taking Hoodoo with me and snapping pictures as I went. We were in a wide valley, with a ridge to the west and north and mountain ranges to the east and south. It was a beautiful place, far enough removed from the hustle of the interstate four miles distant but close enough that we had a fairly constant stream of visitors in vehicles and side-by-sides. We never really got hit by a lot of runners all at once; mostly they came individually or in pairs, only occasionally overlapping. We provided foods you'd expect while exerting a large amount of energy, including fruits, chips, potatoes, candy, and meats, as well as water and electrolyte drinks. As evening fell and the temperature dropped we powered up the lights and heat, preparing noodles, grilled cheeses, and quesadillas for those who would come throughout the night. Most of the runners wouldn't sleep until they completed the course, and if they were up then so were we. Torrey, Carrie, and I took it in turns to nap when we could, but never left our aid station without someone to greet the runners.

Overnight is when things became entrancing. We lit up our station with a small fire and the RV lights, and at the request of a rather, um, interesting, runner Torrey ran out along the trail to mark the way with glow sticks. I have to be honest here, at this point my memory is a little foggy regarding the rest of the night. Exhaustion, excitement, and awareness combined to make things bleed together. I mostly remember the frigid desert night and thinking that if I was cold, when I could get into the RV and warm up, then I was miserably sympathetic for the runners out on the course walking by themselves through the desert night. All I know is that when Carrie woke up and it was my turn to sleep I crawled into the bunk, snuggled down next to Hoodoo (who'd already claimed the bed as his) and passed out within seconds.

Check back next week for the second day of the Grandmaster Ultra!